


When One Door Closes...

by MystBlBk



Category: Amar a Muerte (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystBlBk/pseuds/MystBlBk
Summary: "When one door shuts on my face, I'll knock on ten more to replace that one. Not all doors will be shut in my face. One day, I'll find the perfect one."-------------------------------------------------------------------The blue cloth taunts me as I stare at it now. My heart squeezes tightly at the similarities of its shade of blue to those eyes that now will haunt me. We’ve been together for so long. She’s the last person I’d expect to betray me like this. That’s why it stings even harsher when I think about those azure eyes I love so much. The eyes that I had memorized with my soul and could if prompted, draw them in detail on paper. My heart bursts again in despair when reminded of what I had lost. No-at what had never been mine to begin with.
Relationships: Valentina Carvajal/Juliana Valdés
Comments: 17
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my mother and sister worked for a really famous epidemiologist that has a ton of books written with his name on them for two years. They both have credits in one of his studies since they helped him with it, this was around the time I was twelve and starting to flex my writing muscle. He used to say that-- _"I knock on a door and if the door shuts in my face then I knock on ten more. Not all of them will be shut in my face."_ I think that's a good thing to live by, to always look for something better or something that works best when you face a roadblock. Sometimes forcing things can hurt more than starting from scratch. It's something I've followed since that time. I can honestly say it's helped me over the years.
> 
> When I write about Juliana, I think of myself. We have a lot in common, from living in Texas to having an overbearing mother, which is why I can write about Julianatina fairly easily compared to my other fics. I have a few paragraphs of different storylines hidden in my writing folders, so maybe I'll dust one off and pair this new story with it? While on that topic, the other two fics are almost done. I have their story outlines (maybe I'll post a link so you guys can see what I mean?) ready and I just have to write them down. This one came to me one day while I was listening to some music and driving home alone. I zone out when I drive and that's usually when I allow myself to build the story.
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you all enjoy this new story and please don't hesitate to leave a comment! I really enjoy reading them.--GS

_It’s cold._

As I shiver under the ice-cold A/C, I pull my denim jacket tighter around myself to gain what little heat it provides. I can feel a few curious gazes towards me but I ignore them, they’ll all fall asleep again soon. For the nth time today, I feel my phone vibrate in my front pocket. I narrow my eyes and pull the phone out only to flip it around and pry the battery out of it. Both the phone and battery are stuffed into the bag I have in the seat next to me. The worn black hiking backpack sits there taunting me, reminding me of the many uses it had prior to this day. One of them, running away from my problems, is being acted again.

I glare at the bag then turn to look over to the passengers, hoping that all of them are back from the stop we just made. I nod to myself when I see that the bus is full again and pull my old iPod from my other pocket. While I look through my music for a playlist the bus driver walks back into his vehicle. From my peripheral, I see him count the passengers and then go through the motions of preparing the bus to depart. The man quickly enough gets the large vehicle stuttering awake.

A brody listen-while-the-rain-pours-harshly-playlist calls to me so I click it to start before leaning back in my worn seat as the bus begins to crawl forward. The rough material cuts into the back of my short shirt so I shift to pull my jacket down a little bit. My eyes naturally turn to the window next to me, catching the last glimpses of the building we were at. My teeth automatically grind together when I catch a glimpse of the television inside the gas station’s diner just as we start moving forward. Pictures were taken during public events I had attended with her flash in quick succession. I quickly look away and glare at the seat in front of me. The song changes and my anger turns into sadness and pain.

_**Flashing back to New York City** _  
_**Changing flights so you'd stay with me** _  
_**Remember thinking that I got this right** _

_**Now I wish we'd never met** _  
_**'Cause you're too hard to forget** _  
_**While I'm cleaning up your mess** _  
_**I know he's taking off your dress** _  
_**And I know that you don't** _  
_**But if I ask you if you love me** _  
_**I hope you li-li-li-lie** _  
_**Lie to me** _

I feel streaks of hot tears slowly bubble over in my eyelids, quickly staining my cheeks as they roll down to collect on my collar. I pull out the handkerchief I keep in my jacket pocket to clean my tears. The white and blue checkered material that had been a gift from Leon years ago when I had worn my first suit. The song continues and slowly pulls out memories from me that both make me smile and curse at my faithful heart. I tug at the cloth in my hands, too engrossed with my pain to use it.

A memory of a walk on the beach at Coney Island reminds me of days taking pictures near the Santa Monica Pier. Spending hours visiting the shops in Milan’s shopping district contrast with those we spent inspecting Shibuya’s colorful trends inside and out. My mind turns to nights of passion under stars while sailing on private yachts off the coast of Thailand. Nights cuddled up under the moonlit shadows of the Swiss Alps drinking hot chocolate. First kisses underneath fireworks of New Years in Sydney’s bay area match those shared under large screens in Time Square.

The blue cloth taunts me as I stare at it now. My heart squeezes tightly at the similarities of its shade of blue to those eyes that now will haunt me. We’ve been together for so long. She’s the last person I’d expect to betray me like this. That’s why it stings even harsher when I think about those azure eyes I love so much. The eyes that I had memorized with my soul and could, if prompted, draw them in detail on paper. My heart bursts again in despair when reminded of what I had lost. No-at what had never been mine to begin with.

_Why did you do this to me, Valentina?_

_Why did I ever listen to my heart in the first place?_

_All the signs were there, yet I let myself love you._

_Why?_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**MEXICO CITY D. F. 18 HOURS AGO**

**“She’s going to love it, mija! It’s so beautiful!”**

I grin at my mother from across the table, “Oh god I hope so! I’m so nervous!”

 **“Don’t be,”** my mother Lupe laughs over the Skype call, **“You two have been together for five years! Of course, she’ll say yes! She’ll be crazy not to!”**

I shake my head, “You don’t know that. Val has always been a free spirit. I just got her to settle down in one place for more than six months!?”

My mother hums, acknowledging my girlfriend’s constant need to move from place to place. We’ve never settled down in one area for long, thankfully my profession has allowed me to do so and so has hers. Having big enough fan bases made it easy for both of us to pick up our lives time and time again to start in new places. If we hadn’t lived there then we most certainly had visited there for a day trip. 

**“You’re her only constant,”** mom tells me with a happy smile, **“She’s changed homes and agencies but the only thing she keeps safe is you, mija. She loves you with all her being. She’ll say yes. I’m sure of it.”**

My hand goes to my jacket pocket. I feel the hard square box inside, patiently waiting for its entrance into mine and Val’s lives. I can imagine the silver band that lays inside, decorated with a large sapphire center stone with small diamonds surrounding it, right in front of me. I had personally gone to New York days ago to pick it out from my jeweler and had not taken my eyes off it or the box since my departure from JFK. It had been hidden among my spare lens and camera rolls until today: the day Valentina would return from her trip to Milan Fashion Week.

“Well, pray for everything to go right,” I insist, “I’m freaking out right now!” 

**“I doubt you need it but I will,”** she smiles, **“Well, when is she supposed to show up? I thought you were going to pick her up?”**

“Val’s plane arrived an hour ago. She told me that she was going to Marco first before heading home. She should be leaving his office right now,” I tell her, “She said she needed to talk to him about her schedule then she’d call me when she’s home. She thinks I’m still in New York at Fordham for the week, but I only had to stay for the first two days of my speech and Q&A panel so I cut loose early. Right now I’m just waiting for her to get settled at home before heading three to surprise her. I had the back room reserved for just the two of us at our favorite Chinese food restaurant. While we’re there, Renata and Guille are setting up the living room for when we get back. It's going to be beautiful, mama! I bought out a whole florist just to drape the whole house with roses! I also go her favorite wine and that weird cheese plate she eats with it.”

 **“Sounds extravagant,”** my mother chuckles, **“It’s going to be a beautiful surprise, Juls. She’s been so into her work lately, she deserves a romantic night out with just the two of you.”**

“She’ll get more than enough time for each other when we’re off to Morocco,” I smirk.

My mother laughs, **“Already planned your honeymoon?”**

“It’s on our list,” I shrug, “She’s been wanting to go...”

 **“You’re so sweet. Valentina is such a lucky girl to have chosen my Juli,”** she grins, **“Well I have to get going. Your father should be home soon for dinner. Good luck, mija. Make sure you call me first thing in the morning to tell me how it went!”**

“Thank you,” I wave, “Love you!”

**“Te amo!”**

I grin at the tablet long after my mother hangs up. My eyes turn to the large neon green clock on the wall of the cafe. The large hand finally hits six. A rush of nervous excitement fills me up and I stand quickly, grabbing my bag. 

_Here we go._

I call for the closest taxi on the street and wait for it to stop for me. The man is kind and drives me to the apartment Val and I share. The drive was quiet, the driver had sensed my energy and had left me to my thoughts, and I spent the next thirty minutes looking from my pocket to the digital clock of the car’s radio. I pay the man and tip him hefty for his trouble of driving me halfway across the city then briskly walk up the stairs to the skyrise. The lobby is empty, as it should be at this time in the afternoon, so I walk in and hit the elevator button. My foot taps on the marble floor while I wait. My phone vibrates in my hand so I take it out.

_Lucia_

“Hola,” I smile into the receiver, “What’s up, Luce?”

**“I just wanted to let you know that Guille and Renata are on their way.”**

“Alright,” I step into the elevator, “That’s great. I’m already here. It took longer than usual! So much traffic!”

 **“Well it is Friday, Juls,”** Lucia chuckles, **“Don’t linger too much on that. I’m sure everything will be fine!”**

“I know but my thoughts are my enemy right now,” I groan.

**“I’m sure you’re fine. Do you have your speech ready?”**

“Yup,” I say and step out of the elevator.

 **“Then you’re as ready as you will be,”** Lucia encourages, **“Now, go get your girl! Leon and I are sending you good vibes. Buena suerte, Juliana!”**

“Thanks!”

I hang up and stare down at my phone. The screen clears up from the call and a picture of Valentina smiling at me shows up. I stare at the picture for a few seconds then nod to myself.

“Right,” I shake my head, “Now or never.”

I look to the right hallway that leads to our apartment. With my bottom lip between my teeth, I begin walking to the apartment. My legs feel shaky with each step I take and my skin feels sticky from the sudden cold sweat I’m having. The hallway seems longer but shorter than usual once I’m in front of the door. I gulp and pull my keys from my black backpack. The Captain Marvel lanyard is clutched in my hands as I slowly put the key in the lock. I take one final breath then turn the key. 

I push the door open slowly, as to not scare Valentina. I furrow my brows at the quietness. My eyes go to the shoe rack next to the coat closet. Val’s white sneakers are absent from the rack but they are thrown near them. I raise a brow, Valentina had always been the driving force for that habit. Confusion continues to mount up as I take in the scattered luggage next to the ‘L’ couch we got recently before our trips. 

“Val?”

I walk in fully now, closing the door behind me. I take a few more steps forward until I feel something under my foot. A large shoe, unknown to me, lays sideways in the middle of the entrance leading deeper into my home. My frown grows deeper as I inspect it. I peek into the hallway and see clothes thrown in a trail leading to the master bedroom.

“What the hell,” I mutter, “Val?”

My feet carry me slowly to my bedroom only to stop when I reach the half-open door. A cold bath of water falls on me and I feel as if I could faint. I close my eyes and clench them, wishing for me to only be seeing things. I force my eyes to open only to feel my stomach bottom out in front of me.

Two bodies lay cuddled up in the center of the four-poster bed Valentina and I bought when we arrived in Mexico City. A tall man with curly brown hair sleeps peacefully with his large hand over the small back of a lanky light-brown brunet. My eyes water at seeing the peaceful and happy smile on the woman’s face. I can see red marks on her neck and some leading down her lower back. I cover my mouth and slowly back away from the sight.

Without a second thought I run out of the hallway and into the living room. I grab my backpack from next to the shoe rack and run out the door, slamming the door behind me. The elevator seems too constraining to me so I go to the stairs and start running down them. I thank god for my constant gym visits for the speed I take the stairs. I’m at the bottom faster than I have ever been so I take the back exit from the building. A line of taxis wait nearby so I go to the closest one.

“Que-”

“El estacion,” I grunt to the startled driver, “Take me to the closest bus station. Quickly.”

The man takes in my grave look and simply nods. I lay defeated against the seat and look up at the grey interior. I see unseeing and allow my tears to finally escape me.

_Lucho…_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bus comes to a halt at the border crossing. We all pile out with our luggage and walk into the silver building. Two agents separate my group into two lines. I follow the crowd and pull out my passport, deciding to take the line on the right. The agents check each person slowly and then direct them out. The woman in charge of my line takes my papers and looks at them for a few seconds. Her eyes focus on her screen for a long moment then she frowns and turns to me

“Your work visa is still active,” she raises a brow.

“I had a family emergency,” I easily lied, “My father got injured at work yesterday and my mother has no one to help her.”

The woman looks back down at my passport again then nods and hands it back, “Welcome home, Miss Valdes. I hope your father gets well.”

“Thank you,” I nod and follow the people ahead of me.

I make my way out and stand with the group of passengers. The bus slowly goes through then is checked. Once we’ve all been accounted for again, we all board and continue on our way to the station. We reach the station in a few short minutes and are told to get our things. Most passengers wait for their belongings to be brought from the compartment hidden under the seats but since I just have my backpack, I go out the parking lot without a second glance. 

The city I’m in sits on the northern border of Chihuahua and is over fourteen hours west from my birthplace, San Antonio. It’s far enough away from anyone finding me, from both San Antonio and Mexico City.

_Perfect._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**2 WEEKS LATER**

Soft splashing of water surrounds me as I bask in the soft heat of the Texan sun. I stay sitting in my spot in the dark cove, enjoying the sea lions swimming from left to right while eating my popcorn. The heavy weight dangling from my neck hits the plastic container and on instinct, I place my hand on the metal camera to stop it from jostling too hard. I look down at my camera and allow the small smile to pull at my lips. My gaze catches sight of the empty container. I sigh then stand up.

I walk out of the cove and back to the popcorn seller nearby. The young man fills my popcorn bucket again and I continue my journey around the zoo. I pass above the large koi pond, snapping another shot from the middle of the bridge, then follow the arrows to the orangutan enclosure. The orange beast sits under their canopy eating watermelon and melon squares from the inside of the husk. I point my camera to them and silently steal a moment of their time. The smallest of them looks up just in time to be in the shot. I silently thank him and keep on walking.

I allow myself a few more hours within the zoo before heading outside to catch the city bus. The sun is bearable as I wait but the absence of the square in my pocket burns brighter than even the sun could. I let out a sigh at that thought. I had mailed back the ring to New York a few days prior and had just received my money back this morning into my new bank account.

My new bank account. 

It's difficult to believe how I had to rip my life to shreds these past two weeks. I had to call my accountant and had them separate my assets from _her_ assets as soon as possible. My agent called off all my work for the time being as I lick my wounds under my thousand-thread-count sheets. The apartment had been relinquished to her along with the majority of the money we had gathered during our time together. I thank god for being a humble and hard-working person that the sting of leaving her all my savings is close to non-existent. The phone in my back pocket now only has the numbers of my parents and employees, all Calvajar sounding names had not been transferred over to the device on the change. It had all been difficult, but necessary if I were to get over things.

The bus stops in front of me, shaking me from my thoughts, and I quickly board it and swipe the bus pass I have. I take a seat and wait for it to stop at the building I had boughten a few days ago. The small shop, now converted into a studio so I can start up my work soon, had two floors above it. One for storage and another for living arrangements that I now have been staying at. It wasn’t much but considering I had arrived in this little city with just my laptop and phone but it was all I could ever need for this new life. 

The city is quiet as the bus does its rounds and stops. I snap a few shots of abandoned buildings and shining skyscrapers. My camera turns to the next intersection and my new home appears just a few meters away. I grin to myself and grab my bucket of popcorn before pulling the yellow line next to me. The bus chugs along then stops at the closet stop. I jump up, thank the driver, and jump out of the bus. I stand in the shadows of my new home and take a moment to look at it before going around to the hidden alley behind the strip of buildings. 

A bedroom is attached to a small bathroom and, amazingly, a walk-in closet. Next to the bedroom is a small room that I use as my office, a few steps outside and the living room with an open plan kitchen takes over the rest of the space. Double doors take over the wall across from the living room and through them is the rest of the floor. I had plans of turning it into a rooftop garden in due time but for now, a lonely table with only one chair and a forgotten ashtray is there.

I walk into my place and automatically move for the kitchen. I push my shoes off, not bothering to where they land and move to make something to eat for myself. The floor is quiet, as it should be, but a siren goes off from the firehouse a block over. I shake my head and turn the radio I placed on top of the microwave. A sad melody begins to play so I turn it to another station. The norteña band starts playing. The song beings, a song about heartbreak, so I open my fridge and grab the first green bottle I see. 

**Pop!**

_**Voy a pistearme el dolor que me dejaste** _  
_**Lastima el tiempo invertido nomas me amargaste** _  
_**El primer año fue un amor** _

_**El segundo un desastre** _

_**Nomas sacaste las uñas y así me cortaste** _  
_**Con el primer año tuve** _  
_**Pa' darme cuenta que tuve tu amor solo por un tiempo hasta que un** _  
_**Guey me lo arrebato** _

I drink through the song, singing along with the same desperate voice the singer has. I feel tears collect in my eyes, food forgotten, to allow me this moment of weakness. 

_**Con el primer año tuve** _  
_**Pa' darme cuenta que tuve tu amor solo por un tiempo hasta que un** _  
_**Guey me lo arrebato** _

_**Con el dolor sabe** _  
_**n mas buenas las tecates** _  
_**Como borrarle la memoria al corazón** _  
_**Y si hoy de plano de tu amor ya me botaste** _

_**Si la cerveza cura me tomo un camión** _  
_**Voy a pistearme el dolor** _

The final notes of the song echo in my kitchen. I clean my tears with my sleeve then take the last swing of beer. The acid taste burns pleasantly down my throat and I toss the glass bottle in the bin when I’m done. The radio host cuts through the ads and starts talking.

**“And that was Regulo Caro with _Voy a Pistearme el Dolor!_ Now tell me, Rubi, have you ever had your heart broken so badly that you _had_ to drink the pain away?”**

**“Oh yes,”** the second woman groans, **“I gave him everything, Diva! My heart. My money. Even my car! You’d think he'd be at least honest with me but no! I caught him cheating on me with his cousin during my niece's quinceanera!”**

 **“Thats nasty,”** the first woman winces, **“Well at least you’re not alone in your pain!”**

**“Oh is that right?”**

**“Yes,”** Diva croons, **“Do you know Valentina Carvajal?”**

**“The model? Of course, who doesn't?”**

I turn quickly to shut off the radio but as it is an old model, the last words of slowly quiet down instead of cut off.

**“Reports says that her relationship with the famous American screenplay writer Juliana Valdes just ended in a scandalous way-”**

The static ends and I glare at the radio. 

“Not even the radio is safe,” I grunt and turn back to the sandwich I’m making, “This is exactly why I didn’t buy a television or smartphone! I would toss my computer too if it weren't its need for my job.”

I continue to grumble as I finish my food. I take the plate and bag of chips with me outside to my balcony. The wind isn’t too strong so I take my time to eat. A flock of pigeons flies by, looking for food in the open dumpsters nearby. I follow the birds as they fly and disappear among the buildings. The uneven rooftop view makes me smile and transports me to the early days of being a travel photographer. If more smog and noise were surrounding me, I could imagine myself standing on top of my hotel balcony in Rio five years ago. The memory shifts to one of waking down by the beach and catching a glimpse of the woman that would ultimately rip my heart away from my body.

“Everything reminds me of you,” I chuckle, humorlessly, “I suppose it makes sense. You were my first… My first for everything...”

I sit in my spot for a few more minutes, or perhaps it was hours? In any case, I let out a deep sigh and stand up with my trash and dish. I go inside my new home and quickly clean up my mess. The floor is still quiet when I turn to the silver laptop I have in my makeshift office. The laptop hums to life quietly, not disturbing the peace we’re in. I type in my password, a combination of ship names and numbers, then open up to what I was working on this morning. The page count for the chapter was long, a good twenty pages deeper than I thought it would be, but I patiently go through it to make sure the piece is well written before sending it to my editor. The final chapters were upon me and my projected final submission was starting to creep on me.

Writing a book is easy, or at least to me it is. I thank my keen eye for photography for it because I can visualize the scenes in front of me like a director with their script. A small smile curls at the end of my lips as the small wish I had confessed to my mother when I was young echoes in my brain. I can see my ten-year-old self, fourteen years ago in fact, jumping up and down as my mother walks me out of my favorite place: the movie theater.

_“I want to make my own movie! Or show! Or both! I know I can, mama! You’re going to be so proud!”_

_“Is that so? Well, it better be a really good one! I want to watch it here with you next to us!”_

I feel my eyes water at the reminder of my mother’s encouragement. Dad was a bit harder to convince over the years, but after receiving a fully paid scholarship to UTEP, he had no choice but to accept his only kid would become a starving artist. It went uphill after that. My teachers stared in awe at my skills that never seemed to end. I ultimately graduated a year earlier, skipping summer brakes and taking an ungodly level of classes every semester helped, and a few months later I became one of the un-paid but credited, interns for Paramount Pictures. In the time since I had written a few books along with co-written a few tv shows. The dream for a movie is still there and hopefully, with this new freedom I can do just that.

“If one door closes, then that means to knock on another door,” I mumble, “Sooner or later, one will let me in…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! I hope you all are doing good and staying safe. I have this chapter for you. It's a bit short but there is a reason for that. I hope you enjoy it and tell me your thoughts on it.
> 
> If there are any mistakes or anything that doesn't look right, don't hesitate to tell me!

_Fuck._

I blink rapidly, trying and failing to work away the soreness of my eyes. I squint and look over to the digital clock I have plugged into the wall, bright green numbers tell me it's very well late into the night. I shake my head at the realization that I had been at work for well over four hours. With a groan, I stand up and stretch and twist until I hear and feel the comforting sound of my back popping.

“Ugh,” I groan in pleasure, “I might need a new chair.”

I glare down at the hard office chair, one of the pieces of furnisher I had found in the building’s storage room, and try to imagine how I’m going to get a replacement. I look out the window and into the dark streets of the city, then walk up to the window. My eyes look around at the shops until I see a humble furniture store at the corner of the street across from me. I raise a brow and make a note to check it out in the morning.

_The morning…_

My stomach growls in defiance just then and I’m left annoyed at my distracted state of the day. With a roll of my eyes, I walk back into the living room and take my necessities before walking to the fire escape connected to the hidden alley I used before. The large window on the left side of the house opens out into the fire escape and is visible to the guests of the hotel that takes up the other side of the alley. I have nothing of real value of personal attachment, so I leave the window unlocked once I exit. The stairs are well made and attached to the building well so I’m allowed to go down the metal steps easily without fear of falling. 

The alley is lit by lights of the hotel and a single blub hanging above my building’s employee exit. I don’t feel fear of anyone lingering with bad intentions so I turn to my left and walk to the covered gate entrance to the alley from the street. The street is empty, just as I had seen from upstairs, and there are no restaurants nearby except for the few around the corner so I start walking in that direction. I pass a few people, some shadier than the next, I had gotten acquainted with recently. 

The Tap, a restaurant and lounge combo establishment, sat right in front of the city’s electrical service office and half a block away from the town hall. It’s a little thing compared to the large skyscrapers surrounding the area but its humble red walls contrast well to its neighbor’s, a Chinese restaurant with decent potstickers and phenomenal orange chicken to go with them, blue walls. The place stays up to two in the morning and wakes up early enough to catch the well dressed office crowd in the morning at nine, except on Sunday’s when it wakes up at noon like the rest of the city’s residents.

The Tap is still open, a glance at my watch says its an hour away from closing time, so I walk right into it. Decorated in red and black, along with the banners of local teams such as collegial and professional hanging from the ceiling, the small lounge was comfy in its small size. A long bar takes a quarter of the space on the left side when you enter while on the right there are three-chair tables pushed to the wall and a few booths on each side of the table congregation. A small space between the restrooms, directly to the left of the entrance, is a set of instruments that are used by the local Jazz group that plays every night from nine to one. I had just missed the performance by very little as I could see some of the members at the bar holding cocktails provided by the middle-aged female bartender. 

I disregard the drunkards and the small group of tired college students at the front in favor of going to the back of the place. The last booth is empty and sits right across from a well-used billiard table that a few leathered clad motorcycle men were playing at. I nod to the men as they watch me slide into the booth and then simply smile at me. A few men, a tall bearded one and one with no hair but plenty of mustache, grin at me allowing me to see their missing teeth. The other two, a young man looking to be in his early thirties, and a much younger version, possibly just graduated from high school, nod back and raise their beers to me in good spirit. 

A young man, lanky and wearing the standard full black uniform under a waist apron, walks to me quickly once I’m seated. He pulls out his notepad and a pen from his pockets then smiles down at me.

“Hello Ms,” he drawls with is western Texas accent, “Nice to see you again. Would you like something to drink? Maybe a beer or something? Do you need the menu?”

“No thank you, Joel,” I wave him off with a shrug, “Just a Coke and a menudo. Could I also get another order to go? I’m going to be busy tomorrow morning and I won't be able to get off for breakfast.”

Joel nods, “Of course. Only the best for our new regular. I’ll get that right up for you.”

“Thanks,” I smile kindly at the young man.

The waiter turns around, squeaky sneakers mute against the loud R&B that’s streaming out of the lounge speakers, and walks briskly to the back of the building to reach the kitchen. He passes the motorcyclists but doesn't ignore them, instead, he talks to them for a few seconds then is back on his way. I smile to myself at Joel’s kindness. For a kid straight out of high school, he has his head screwed on right. I can’t count the number of crazy things I did myself at his age so seeing him so mature makes me laugh at my own behavior.

I look around the room and take in the clientele again. A few older men with beards, salt and pepper hair, and dressed in Hawaiian shirts chat at the bar next to the four Jazz players. The four men, clearly of African descent, laugh loudly at the bartender’s joke and slap each other’s back in mirth. The tallest of them has laugh lines around his mouth and kindness shining in his eyes. The second tallest looks the youngest and appears to be related to the first man. The other two are a few shades lighter than the first but I can hear accents slightly stereotypical of Louisiana or Georgia. 

The youngest man seems to have noticed my staring as he pats the tallest guy lightly then nods and walks straight towards me. He smiles at me, white teeth shining under the fairy lights pinned to the wood ceiling, and leans on the table slightly.

“Good evening ma’am,” he drawls to me, “Having a nice night?”

I scoff playfully, “I would have if I had gotten here an hour earlier.”

He brightness at my comment and smiles, “Is that so? You would have heard us playing.”

“Yes sir,” a nod to him, “I’ve heard you guys a few times since I started coming here. I like your flow. It reminds me of New Orleans during the rainy season.”

“New Orleans,” the man says with a large grin, “Man. It’s been a while. You been there?”

“Lived there a few months,” I explain, “I lived in Georgia, right before Atlanta, while I was working for a director.”

“Wow,” he mouths then shakes his head, “You’re LA people, aren't you?”

“I suppose I am,” I laugh, “I work for them but I haven’t lived there for more than a few months. California is nice but to be honest I prefer Texas the most.”

“Born here,” the man asks, “You speak like a local. I’m Jerry by the way, nice to meet you, Miss....”

“Juliana,” I stretch out my hand so we can shake, “And no, I’m from San Antonio. I went to school here though.”

“Tech or-”

“Miners all the way,” I closed my hand into a fist except my thumb and outstretched pinky, the form of a pickaxe.

“No way,” Jerry laughs and pulls up the sleeve of his polo shirt.

Painted permanently onto his dark skin is a large crest of the US Marines, a large picture of the Earth with a large eagle standing on it, and underneath it was the tip of a pickaxe, point down buried into a mountain shape. With a smile on my face, I pull off my jacket and look down at my arms. The two sleeves that I had painted onto my skin were beautiful and told stories of my many adventures over the years. Painted all over my left arm were recreations of the stamps I had all over my passport pages. The ink changed from place to place but the dates were all visible on my skin, each referring to the first trip I had to each country. 

As for my right arm, a large map of the world overtook my entire arm and reached up to part of my collarbone and my shoulder blade. Over the map different mapping tools such as a naval compass and binoculars ‘placed’ on the map along with ‘pins’ of tacked onto the map. For now, I turned my left wrist over to show the small pickaxe head painted horizontal across over my veins surrounded by an outline of a mountain.

“Damn. Repping the 915,” he laughed, “What about San Antonio? Got one for them too?”

I nod with a smile and turn over my right wrist. A thin line crossing my wrist, placed just like it’s sister on my left, depicts the San Antonio skyline with a small half-crescent moon on the corner. 

“Well that’s love right there,” he whistles, “Are those real?”

“The stamps,” I raise a brow, “Yeah. I’ve got the passport to prove it.”

The man laughs but nods, “Alright. Alright. So what are you doing here? You’ve got Angles blood in you, superstar. You should be there, no?”

“Not really. I haven't been there in a while unless it's work-related. I've never been there for work. I work remotely, mostly,” I sigh, “As for why I’m here...Woman troubles.”

“Okay stop right there,” Jerry raises a hand, “Do you mean woman troubles or _Woman Troubles?”_

With a smirk, I reply, _“Woman Troubles.”_

“Ah,” he shakes his head, “I’m sorry man- No. Wait. I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, vato,” I smirk again, “I get it.”

Jerry smile then shifts to a frown, “I hope you figure out what you need, kid. Sometimes we need new air around us.”

I nod, “Yeah. It's not that bad. I’m starting over from where I left off. A new beginning, I guess.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, sir,” I point in the direction of my new home, “Bought the old shop next to the Gateway hotel. I’m starting a new office. Maybe picking up my photography skill again. Hell, I might even do the YouTube thing and do sketches as I did in college. Thank god I’ve got a lot of skills to pull out of my hat.”

“That's what I’m talking about,” he nods, “Get back up. No one should keep you down, that’s a choice you should make not be forced to do.”

We sit in silence for a while, enough time for Joel to bring me my food and drink along with my to-go bag. Jerry looks at me when I start to pick up my spoon then smiles kindly. He taps the table then shuffles into his pockets. I watch as he pulls out a large cellphone and flips it over. On the backside of the thick case is a thin cardholder stacked with a few cards. Jerry pulls the topmost card and slides it to me. I take the black card and glance down at the two gold boxing gloves at the center of the cardstock

“How about this? I own a gym not too far from the University. I’m a boxing coach and I have a team too. Maybe come by sometime to get rid of some steam? You look like you could let go a little and you’re a nice kid. I wouldn’t mind having you around my kids too,” he suggests, “You could make some friends while you’re at it. Some of the people that go to my place are alumni. You might run into someone you know?”

I think about it for a few seconds then nod, “That sounds great. Thanks.”

Jerry nods with a smile and we spend a few more minutes talking about the city, about the changes in freeway options and the recent change in the mayor’s office, before his phone screeches loudly. I smile to myself as the tall man answer and receives a loud womanly yell over the line. He talks calmly back to the woman for a few minutes until he sighs and smiles. The expression is one I've seen a few times on my father: hopelessly in love even while being scolded. Jerry finally hangs up and looks at me with a look that screams ‘what to do with that woman?’

“I guess I better get going before I get Woman Troubles myself,” he chuckles, “Have a nice night, Juliana. Don’t hesitate to call if you need help or something.”

“Thanks, man,” I smile to him when he gets up, “I’ll be in touch.”

The man raises a hand in farewell the walks out of the lounge with his trumpet case under his arm. I stay at the lounge for a while later, clock rapidly approaching closing time, before pulling out a fifty dollar bill and placing it on the table as I take my leave. The streets are empty--or I supposed even more deserted than when I arrived--so I take more processions then when I got to the hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The empty streets are quiet and the hot air from the day has turned into a cool wind. The walk is brisk and before I know it I’m at the gate entrance again. I tuck the bag under my arm and pull out my keys from my pocket. I put the key in the metal lock and unlock the heavy gate.

I’m in the hidden alley, closing the door behind me when the sound of metal clanking as it falls onto the asphalt floor. I blink slowly, confused where the noise is from, then I slowly walk deeper into the alley. Suddenly the sound of loud bashing against metal reaches my ears. I narrow my eyes to try and see in the darkness. The space is empty except for a few metal trashcans under the hotel’s side and a few crates of things I had on my side. I shake my head and walk deeper, almost to the end of the alley, then stop. 

The lights from above shine down onto the few cars in the hidden parking spaces used for employees. Right behind the road that connects the buildings and allows the trash trucks to come and pick up their containers, is a public parking area that is empty except for a blue truck parked under a street lamp. I look around and see nothing out of place.

“The hell,” I mumble, “What was that noise then?”

Suddenly, the large trash containers move again. I back up from the noise and my bag of food falls to the ground as I trip over my feet and fall on my ass. A scream bubbles up in my throat but my fear is too big to allow it to leave my body. My eyes widen as a dark shadow behind the containers moves about. Images of homeless men dressed in ragged clothing flash in mind before switching to dangerous molesters and rapists that follow women and men from bars through alleys. My heart stops, as does my mind, but my mouth betrayed my need to hide and I scream out finally:

“THE FUCK?!”

The shadow moves forward but my instincts are faster. I scrabble up from the floor and crawl a few feet forward before turning quickly back to the alley. I run quickly, sprinting full-on while taking my keys out of my pocket. A shiver envelops me and creates a thick layer of panic sweat to appear over my skin. I shiver while struggling to unlock my door. Temptation wins for a second so I look to my left, back at the containers, and see the shadow slightly exposed to me due to the light. 

I freeze.

_Oh my god…_

The shadowed figure I had expected wasn’t there. The evil smirking man with eyes filled with sadistic purposes isn’t standing under the yellow street lights. Nor is there a skinny old man with clothes hanging off his body walking up to me to ask for spare change. There is most certainly not a stranger asking for directions or a drug dealer ready to defend his place of business or a drunkard that had stumbled into the alley looking for their car.

No, instead there was a woman. A lanky, skinny from malnourishment and fatigue young-looking woman crouched down over the bag of food I had dropped in my haste escape. The woman’s features were mostly hidden from me by the darkness but the little light that the backlights provided was enough for me to freeze in my spot and stare at her.

_She….she looks like…_

The woman suddenly stands, finally noticing my staring, and turns to look at me fully. My jaw unhinges and I feel my eyes widen to a size I never knew could be possible. The woman glares at me then takes the bag and makes a quick exit to her left, towards the parking spaces. I stand there for a few seconds then follow her slowly. By the time I reach the road that leads to the parking spaces, the woman is gone and untraceable in the dark. 

I cover my mouth, feeling nausea bubble up inside me and stare off into the dark street corner that leads to the closest abandoned buildings.

_I’m just seeing things… Yeah… It’s the sleep deprivation, nothing more..._

I shake my head and lick my lips. With a final look around in the darkness, I turn away and walk back to my door. A shiver rolls up my spine and the feeling of being watched makes me walk just a bit faster. I make it to my door and lock it behind me immediately. With a loud sigh, I walk up the stairs two at a time. The floor is quiet, just as I left it, and I stare out the glass doors for a second then look to my bedroom. The remainder of white sheets and light brown hair pairs up with what I just saw and my tired bones plead not to go to sleep. I sigh again and walk to my office.

_Another night of no sleep… The new normal…_


End file.
